Had to happen eventually
by Ezqueza
Summary: .:So my buddy once said there was a HP crossover for everything:. Archduke Ferdinand and his wife are very surprised to hear that their son is being contacted by an unknown writer, and the messages are being delivered by OWLS of all things. Thus begins the tale of Prince Aleksander of Hohenberg the first Muggle Prince to attend Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. R&R 3
1. A Mysterious Letter

At first, it seemed hardly necessary to alert the Archduke and his wife of the young master's tales. Of course his tutors would never accuse the boy of _lying,_ eleven is a reasonable age to believe in faerie tales, but when young Aleksander produced _evidence _of his folly, his caretakers had no choice but to tell Ferdinand that his son was being contacted by an unknown writer.

The Archduke scoffed. How could his son Alek, who was under constant surveillance, be in contact with an anonymous source? The post was regularly checked by staff, and even if a servant slipped them to the boy during the day without his parent's notice, _someone _must have noticed him doing so. But there the letter was, in a pale yellow envelope with a strange red wax seal. It was a small case, couldn't possibly hold anything harmful, and upon reading the message himself, the Archduke dismissed it as a joke.

However, there was still the question of how it got to the young master, letters don't just appear in young boy's hands, and none of Alek's tutors recalled a servant bringing him the message during the day. When questioned the boy said it he found it by his window, which he had left open the night before. At first the patient father told his son that the servant who delivered the message was not to take any blame, and that he could tell the truth, but still the boy insisted that he had found it upon waking up.

Then the Archduke lost his temper, and began a questioning of the staff to see which would endanger his son so. The letter itself was of no harm, but what if it had been filled with a harmful substance? Or a packaged bomb? No, the idea that a stranger could get so close to his son disturbed Ferdinand to no end. Alek was given a consequence; no walker lessons until he confessed the identity of the servant. The boy, grumpy at the injustice of it all, remained locked in his room for the remainder of the evening, which he would have usually spent with Master Klopp, the Master of Mechanics.

The next morning Alek did something he had _never _done before, and actually snuck out of his room to wake his parents. The only thing that stopped them from sending him back was the pale yellow envelope he waved in his left hand. This one contained the same script as the last.

The parents began to worry. They demanded the boy stop his folly and tell them who was giving him the letters.

"An owl, father," he said, after having dressed and been fed.

Ferdinand looked at his wife, then back to his son. Sophie sighed, and reached for Alek's hand across the table.

"Darling, you know how much I detest fibbing. I want you to be serious. Tell us who gave you that piece of paper."

Alek snatched his hand away, averting his gaze. The frustration building in the back of his eyes was becoming overwhelming. He took a moment to steady his voice, as his father so often did, and looked his mother full in the face.

"I am _not _lying," he said, trying his hardest not to whine like a child, "A big horned owl gave it to me."

"Son, if you do not abandon this foolishness we will be very cross with you," The father intervened, "It is very important you tell us _exactly _how you came across this letter."

The boy looked down again, then back up at his father's unforgiving gaze.

"I stayed up after the servants left," he admitted, shame evident on his face, "And I was going to play with my tin soldiers…" he trailed off, remembering to late that he wanted to remove that little detail, "But then I heard a tapping on the window, as if someone wanted to be let in."

At this the color drained from Sophie's face. Ferdinand shot up from his seat and alerted the guards. No one listened to the boy's continued story, even as he trailed behind his parents like a duckling.

That night armed guards stood by the boy's windows. Their stern faces made drifting off quite difficult, and Alek was a bit embarrassed to have them see him in his pajamas, but eventually he managed to block their silhouettes from his mind.

It just wasn't fair, why did no one believe him? He was hardly young enough to make up stories anymore. Not like those days where he swore that he had managed to make a spoon move without touching it, or when he claimed the horses were making fun of him. Those distant memories came back to him now. He wondered why he so desperately wanted people to believe his lies all those years ago. He hated lying, especially to his mother, but for some reason his young brain had thoroughly convinced itself that these things had happened.

His thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping noise. The boy dared to raise his head, and found that both guards had fallen asleep. Cautiously, he crossed the floor to the window, there a great grey owl was rapping the glass with a talon. In its yellow beak he could see yet another of the letters.

"Go away!" he whispered violently to the bird, and tried to effectively shoo it without waking the guards. The beast only persisted, giving him an almost irritable look as it tapped away at his window.

Alek looked at the guards who snoozed against the walls. If this bird kept at it they would wake up, and tell his father the truth. Maybe he should let the bird in, just to show them that his story was genuine.

Carefully, he undid the latch, and let the window creak open. The bird hopped inside, shook out its feathers, and dropped the letter on the windowsill. Then, as the horned owl had done, it prepared to leap into flight.

"Wait!" Alek called to it, and tried to wake the guards.

They did not move a muscle, as if in a drug induced sleep.

In a desperate attempt to prove his honesty, Alek tried to grab the bird. He managed to get a fist full of feathers and a scratch on his finger for his troubles. As soon as the beast flapped out of sight, the guards twitched awake. They took one look at Alek's hands and pointed their rifles out the window. Neither of them thought to look at the sky.

Ferdinand was outraged, of course, but immensely worried as well. Who would go through all this trouble just to get a nonsensical letter to his son? Was this some sort of plot? An attempt to kidnap Alek? Who could possibly profit from this idiocy?

But in the back of his mind his solemn disbelief was trickling into doubt. What if there was some _truth_ to this madness? Darwinist creations often made their way into Clanker nations undetected, was it so strange that Alek's stalker could use birds to communicate?

Ferdinand re-read the letters, despite his better judgment. There had to be some hidden meaning to all this.

It was pure nonsense of course, but had an elegance to it. As if the writer truly believed in his own lies. But how could he? It was just too ridiculous.

Over time, more letters would come. More mysterious birds in the night, all of them carrying the same message. It became an obsession of the Archduke, who took it upon himself to read every letter closely. Each one was addressed to Alek, who was getting increasingly more curious about them. They tried changing his bedroom, only to have the birds unerringly come to the right window. The Archduke hired gunmen to scare off or kill the owls, only to have them dodge the bullets effortlessly and find Alek wherever he slept. Finally, Ferdinand gave up, and as if in a fit of madness, read the letter aloud to his son.

"_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_


	2. A Piece of Equipment

There were three stages that Alek had to endure from his parents. The first was of course disbelief. Wizards did not exist, and even if they did, none of Alek's tutors had ever heard of this 'Hogwarts' before. But as the days ticked by, more letters came, sometimes ten at a time would shoot through the boys window, leaving a mess on his bedroom floor. Whoever was behind this wanted Alek to attend this…_'institution' _quite a bit. Slowly, they began to take the messages seriously, which lead to stage two.

Outrage. Who were these people to make Alek _buy _his own supplies in a currency they did not recognize? And furthermore, the invite had come with a train ticket, Kings Cross Station, in _London _of all places. If they wanted him so badly the least they could do was send a private escort, as would any school that respected their lineage. These people seemed to have no regard for status or tradition, treating Alek as if he were some scholarship student. The outrage stage lasted quite a bit, and Alek began to worry.

The date the school had given them was coming up, and Alek wondered if he could get a boat to London in time. As he often said when begging to his parents, he was fluent in English. The writer seemed to be worried as well, sending more letters every day. But what could possibly be done? One doesn't just send a boy of noble blood alone to a country to attend a school no one has ever heard of, and there was no way of _arguing _with them, as they left no address. Even if they had, it was quite clear that the writer did not communicate by any sensible means.

Alek kept some of his letters, reading over the supplies needed. Some of them were downright disgusting, newt's eyes and batwings, but some of the book titles sounded fascinating. He was told that, as a first year, he was unable to bring a broomstick. Why on earth would he want a broomstick? Was there no house service at this place? His pleas became ever more desperate with every passing day. He didn't quite know why he wanted to attend so badly. Or why he even _believed _that this place was actually a school for young wizards. Maybe it was because he wanted so badly for this place to exist, as he had wanted his lies to be true as a child. People didn't seem to care about princes and archdukes there, and maybe it was a place where it didn't matter that he would never inherit his father's title. The idea of 'Archduke Aleksander' melted into the immense longing of "Alek the Wizard."

Slowly but surely the third stage rolled around, and too close for comfort in Alek's opinion. Acceptance. This was of course due to a letter that came two weeks from the day he would be expected. It was the same letter, but squished into the envelope was a personal message from the headmaster, saying that due to the circumstances, Alek would be permitted one 'muggle' guardian to stay with him for the duration of his first year. Alongside the message was a note to give to a bank that gave the boy an allowance, as was the custom for any "Muggleborn" students.

Whatever a muggle was, Sophie said that they shouldn't be insulted by being referred to as one. As instructed by the headmaster, the Archduke and his wife announced that they were sending their son to a private and extremely isolated institution for the remainder of his studies.

And so, a week away from the date given, Alek stepped off of the boat in London. He expected to be met with bystanders and press, wondering why an Austrian prince would want to go to an English school, but it was as if the passersby didn't even _see _him. Their eyes slid past him and Count Volger, who had agreed to be his escort, as if they were invisible. As he looked about in utter amazement at the unimportance of his arrival, a flock of men in long black trench coats approached him. Despite their dreary and unusual dress, the tallest of them had an excited expression as he reached out his hand.

"Prince Aleksander then?" He said before jerking it unceremoniously, "Oh it _is _a pleasure. We've never had a case like yours I'm afraid, its quite new to all of us. But just think, Prince, you're the _first._"

"The first what?" Alek asked slowly, taken aback at their brass treatment.

"You don't know?" the man said, then his grin widened, "Well usually your muggle nobility keep it all in the family, if you understand my meaning, and never have room to develop the gift. You're the first wizard to be born from muggle royalty, you see, and of course the papers are all abuzz about it. 'Muggleborn Prince Attends Hogwarts' you must feel so _honored."_

Alek blinked. He was _excited_, but the idea that he was anything special never crossed his mind. But then how many princes _did _he know who went away to mysterious schools in Britain?

"Yes, I suppose," he managed, "Might I ask your name sir?"

"Oh yes of course," the man said, searching madly through his pockets, then produced a card from his pocket. He offered it to Alek, only to have it be snatched away by Volger.

"'Daniel Perkins, chairmen of Muggle Affairs'" Volger read, and then fixed Daniel with his solemn glare. Perkins did not flinch as he grabbed the counts hand and pumped it energetically.

"And you must be the boy's escort. You really twisted our arm, you know. No muggle has _ever _been on the grounds of Hogwarts, you see, very new."

With that the man turned on his heel and marched into the street. His entourage followed, the last of them beckoning for Alek to follow.

As Alek trotted to keep up, the man talked into the air as if delivering a speech.

"All very secret you see," he said, "Other Wizarding schools would have sold their headmaster to have you attend, but Hogwarts is the best of the best, you believe me, the absolute _best." _

"Other wizarding schools?" Alek managed as he tried to keep up. The man had a very brisk way about him.

"Oh yes, there are many others, many of them closer to Austria than Hogwarts, but Evangeline won in the end, a fighter, that one." Daniel smiled and halted abruptly, "Here we are."

Alek didn't quite know what to expect when he looked up; certainly not what stood before him. It was a particularly unimpressive pub with grubby letters that spelled out 'The Mermaid."

As one of the men held the door, Daniel strode in, followed closely by Alek. Panic shot through his gut. This _was _a kidnapping then! How could they have been so foolish? Wizards did not exist, and neither did this school in London. This was obviously some ploy for this Perkins fellow to-

-Walk in a straight line to the back wall of the pub, and begin an elaborate routine of tapping bricks.

Hearing the door slam behind him, Alek looked back at Volger, who had similar thoughts on his mind. But as he turned to face Daniel and demand an explanation he saw the man was already quickly walking through an arch that had appeared on the wall. Alek barely had time to gape as he hurried to catch up. This was saying something, as there was an awful lot to gape at.

They seemed to have arrived at a port of some sorts, but nothing like the docks of London. It was as if they had traveled to a different world, a world unrelated to the dreary city they came from. Colorful flags flapped in the wind, massive cages hung from stalls set up at the edge of the docks, and boxes of all sizes where being unloaded from ships that hovered above the water. Everywhere Alek looked something vibrant was whizzing overhead or weaving between bodies that packed the wooden planks.

As they passed, vendors clad in billowing robes called out their wares, a few of them waving fistfuls of what looked like purple grain to their potential buyers.

Through all this chaos Alek managed to trail behind Daniel, who dove in and out of the crowd like a dolphin. The pure mass of people both astounded and stunned Alek into an amazed silence. He could not remember being in a place this crowded, or been shoved by so many strangers. Half of him wanted to shout out in annoyance and the other half wanted to run and hide.

"This way your highness!" Daniel called to him, waving a gloved hand in the direction of a shop ahead.

In the end the flock of men, or _wizards_ he supposed, had to form a protective circle to keep Alek from being swept away by the masses. They were just as bad as the crowd, shoving and poking him in the right direction until he was pushed into the little shop Daniel had disappeared into.

Contrary to the roar of the public outside, a dead silence lay inside, as well as a musty smell. As Alek's eyes adjusted, he saw shelves and shelves of little thin boxes. As he stared he almost ran into a dark brunette carrying a stack of boxes.

"Sugar," she exclaimed angrily, as her cargo fell. The cases popped open, and little wooden rods rolled across the floor. Alek backed away, mortified at his mistake.

"S-sorry" he managed, looking down at her, then tried to hurry past her.

"Sorry my foot," she snapped in a thick Armenian accent, "Help me you idiot!"

Frozen with surprise, Alek turned, to face her. She couldn't have been older than fourteen, and here she was ordering him about.

The girl didn't look at him as she worked to collect the rods and put them in their cases. Finally her head tilted upward.

"Stop your staring and _help me_."

"Yes of course," Alek managed as he obediently knelt to pick up the rods.

Daniel's head swung around from a shelf.

"Hurry if you please, your highness. We have a lot to cover-" he began, then saw the boy kneeling on the floor.

At this moment Volger entered, and glared down his nose at Alek. Slowly the boy stood, and with an apologetic nod the girl, followed Daniel to the counter.

"This is Zaven, best wands this end of the Wizarding world," Daniel said loudly, thumping the man on the back.

"Best wands on the other end as well," Zaven smiled, "As of next week of course. Have to make it to France in time for the Beauxbatons."

"No ones ever been this late to get their supplies, but your family were a stubborn lot." Daniel said to Alek, "But you have a few left I'm sure, eh Zaven?"

The man chuckled.

"Business is always slow the last few days," he admitted, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Another supplier has set up shop in London."

"No!" Daniel gasped, "Where?"

"In one of those new shops they're building near Gringotes. Diagon Alley they're calling it. All sorts of new places, will run us traveling types out of business!"

"Never," Daniel huffed, then pushed Alek forward, "Young Alek here needs a wand, and no youngster is going to be better at choosing one than you."

Zaven smiled.

"Hogwarts then?" he asked, looking to Alek warmly, "I thought so. Old Evangeline usually gets her way. Has connections. And a good thing to, no better place than Hogwarts. Lilit!" he called, and to Alek's embarrassment the girl trotted into sight. "Lilit's in her third year at Hogwarts. Didn't see any point in going somewhere local to the Ottoman Empire, we always end up in London anyway." He gave the girl's shoulders a squeeze. "Maybe you'll be in the same house!"

The girl sniffed, and Alek thought he heard her mutter, "Doubt it."

But she was shooed away, and Zaven began to climb a ladder to the higher shelves.

"You have no preference of course?" He called down. It took a moment for Alek to realize he was being spoken to, then started and called up a shaky affirmative.

"Try this then," the man said as he leapt off of his ladder, "Dragon heartstring. New model, flexible."

Alek took the thing and waited for something to happen. It was just a lump of wood in his hand. Impatient, he gave it a little flick and a pile of wands shot off their shelves.

He heard Lilit cursing as she picked herself up.

"No worries no worries," Zaven chuckled, "Try this one. Phoenix feather, very old, one of a kind."

Alek stared at the wand, and nervously waved it at the floor, where the carpet abruptly burst into flame. Zaven chuckled and pulled out his own wand, flicking it at the small fire and extinguishing it.

"Closer," he said, then disappeared behind a shelf. "Lilit!" he called to his daughter, "Give the boy a Hammish 36."

With a scowl on her face, Lilit appeared with yet another wand.

"Veela hair," she snapped, "Has a lot of 'umph' but _usually_" at this she raised her voice, "Are too much for muggleborns."

Alek took the wand from her and waved it, expecting the worst, only to have nothing happen. He was about to ask if this one might be defective, when a warm glow grew in his stomach, then spread to the tips of his fingers. For a moment Alek could move mountains, and any doubt about this strange world vanished. Then all of a sudden the feeling dropped away, leaving behind a tingling sensation in his arm.

He turned to Daniel, who was nodding with approval, then to Volger, who was staring in blatant horror. He looked down at the wand, and waved it again. Nothing happened.

It was Zaven who broke the silence.

"It worked, didn't it?" he called.

Lilit grunted. "Well of _course _it worked, you're _always _right." She said sarcastically, and disappeared into a back room.

"We'll take it!" Daniel said happily, patting Alek's shoulders.

Alek still stared dumbfounded at the stick in his hand. It wasn't beautiful or fancy like the others, just a jet black rod with a polished handle. How could something so small make him feel so…_powerful?_

"Hurry up your highness," Daniel called from miles away, "We still have a lot to get done, and we have to hurry before the shops close!"

Alek nodded slowly, unable to move his eyes from the wand. _His _wand. It was as if this little rod bound him to this strange new world. Like he had stopped being Alek and Prince, and begun his life as Alek the Wizard.


	3. A New Frind

Alek had never been to a public train station before, but even if he had, he was pretty sure the platform numbers didn't work in fractions. Yet, his ticket _did _say 'Platform 9 3/4', and as Mr. Perkins lead him to Platform 9, he didn't see anything between 9 and 10.

"Now gentlemen," Perkins said, turning to face Alek and Volger, "This bit is tricky, and I'm going to have to ask you to be understanding of our situation. You see you really are a unique case-"

"Yes, yes, we know," Volger interrupted, irritated at having had to push Alek's rather heavy trolley through the station.

Perkins grinned at Volger, whose stern expression did not change.

"While it was in our agreement that the Count would accompany his highness for his first year at Hogwarts, there are certain places where you will _not _be able to accompany Aleksander," Perkins said, his face sliding into an apologetic smile, "The first of which being the platform."

Volger straightened as if to protest, but was immediately interrupted by one of Perkin's men.

"It isn't a matter of us disallowing you to enter, its more that you physically _cannot enter the gate_," He said, pointing to the pillar of Platform 9. "The gateway is charmed to only allow wizards through, in case muggles accidentally bump or lean against it. The charm has held for generations, and it simply wouldn't do for us to dismember it for one man's entry."

Alek looked at the pillar, utterly confused.

"You mean the pillar?" he asked tentatively, and was surprised to have Perkins' hands on his shoulders.

"That's right your highness, you just run up to that pillar and you'll pass through as if it isn't there at all. Your escort on the other hand," he let go of Alek and faced a very outraged Volger, "Will have to be taken to the school grounds by other means."

With this one of Perkin's men snatched the trolley away from Volger and pushed it in front of Alek.

"Say your goodbyes here, Prince," the wizard said, "And then off you go. The train will be leaving soon. Time is of the essence."

Alek took the handlebar of the trolley and looked over his shoulder. Volger still looked as if he had something to say about this, but nodded sternly to Alek, as if allowing him to go forward. Alek turned to the pillar, trying to imagine a door or opening for him to cross through. It just didn't seem right to charge a mass of brick and expect to pass through it. But then, he supposed, that was exactly how he had passed through to the Port to get his supplies. He took a deep breath, and began to trot towards the gate. As he got closer, everything in his body told him to pull back and avoid the collision, but he stubbornly broke into a run, shutting his eyes against the impact.

The impact never came. Instead, he opened his eyes and found himself in a dense crowd of people. He looked above at the plaque that read "Platform 9/3"

"On you go lad," a man in uniform said, gesturing for him to move forward, "Lots of people coming in."

As Alek pushed forward, he noticed that most of the crowd was dressed in long robes of varying colors, like Perkins and his men had worn. Alek himself had been fitted for robes, which were tucked neatly inside his trunk alongside his other supplies, but he had not been sure if he was quite brave enough to wear them in public. But the people here seemed to have no issue with such attire. Adults and children, men and women, everyone here seemed to be dressed the same. All of a sudden Alek felt out of place in his pants and shirt, and wondered if he could find somewhere private to change. These thoughts were fleeting however, as he and his trolley was shoved forward into the masses.

This was the first time Alek had been alone. Surrounded by a large crowd, but without Volger or Perkins or _anyone _here he felt a sudden surge of panic. What was he to do? What if he did it wrong? Who was going to tell him where to go? He turned to see if any of the wizards who had accompanied him here had followed him through the gate, but was unable to spot a familiar face in the crowd. He took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. Alek couldn't just stand here, his trunk had to be loaded onto the train. With one last look to see if Perkins had come though, he took the handle of his trunk and lifted it up onto the train step. The weight of it surprised him, and once it was safely aboard he took a moment to catch his breath.

This was it then. Without ceremony or grandeur, here he was on the Hogwarts Express about to begin his education as a Wizard. As Alek shoved his trunk down the aisle looking for an empty compartment, a great excitement seemed to grow outside. Turning to look out the window, Alek saw that all the people who had previously been facing the train to say goodbye to their loved ones, had their backs turned. At the center of the sea of cloaks, Alek saw a small family pushing through the dumbstruck crowd. A tall man with curly blonde hair walked behind two boys who each pushed a trolley. Alek did not notice the boys behind him until they whispered in astonishment:

"There they are! That's him, Artemis Sharp!"

He whipped around in surprise at their closeness, but they seemed not to be paying much attention to Alek.

"D'you think he'll be signing autographs?"

"I don't know, mum said I was to leave them alone when I saw them."

The tall man smiled and waved to his audience, while the elder of his boys blushed and looked down. The younger held fast to his father's arm as he gazed at the train. His eyes glanced momentarily at the window Alek and his two companions were pinned to. He was blonde, like his father, with short hair combed flat over his head. The boy's expression was a mix of excitement and nerves, mirroring the way Alek felt deep in his stomach.

The crowd seemed to break its composure then, many began to dig for pieces of paper for the tall man to sign. As he was overwhelmed, his two sons lifted their trunks onto the train.

The boys behind Alek had rushed to the nearest exit to get their own paper's signed, and Alek resumed his search for an empty cart. He found one near the back of the train, far away from the hubbub outside. After closing the door firmly behind him, Alek immediately searched his trunk for his robes. He tugged them out hastily, spilling some of his leftover school allowance on the floor. Alek changed quickly then stooped to pick up the coins. He had made a mess of his trunk in his search, and was reminded of being berated by his tutors for the messes he often made when looking for things. Just as he had re-organized the trunk and was wondering how he was going to lift it up to the top compartment, he heard the door behind him slide open.

It was the boy from outside, his own trunk trailed behind him.

"Sorry," he said, "But the others are full."

Alek nodded, shoving his trunk off of the other seat.

"Do you need help?" the boy asked, coming over to help.

As they lifted both of their trunks up to the top compartment, Alek noted that the boy was considerably taller than he was.

After making sure the cargo was secure, the boy slumped into the seat across from Alek. A few minutes passed then, and the train lurched into movement.

"Already said goodbye to your ma then?" the boy asked with a friendly smile, "Jaspart and I were never too clingy either."

Alek nodded. He didn't quite know what he thought of the boy in front of him.

"Was that your father then?" he asked nervously, nodding his head to the outside.

"Aye," the boy said, looking down, "Da always gets swarmed in public. He'll be upset that we snuck off like that but Jaspart said it was the same last year too."

More awkward moments passed, neither of them knowing quite what to say.

"Why does he get 'swarmed' in public?" Alek finally managed.

The boy's head snapped up, confused. Then his expression softened into a relaxed, almost relieved, smile.

"You're muggleborn aren't you?" he asked bluntly.

Alek nodded slowly. There was that word 'muggle' again. Perkins had used it constantly in the week they had spent in London, and Alek hadn't decided if he was offended by it or not.

"Is your father a great wizard?" Alek tried to ask casually, wondering himself what exactly a 'great wizard' was.

The boy laughed.

"He's as good as any other, but he plays Quidditch for Britain."

Alek stared blankly at the boy.

"But of course you don't _know _what Quidditch is," the boy said, slapping himself on the forehead, "It's a wizard sport."

Alek nodded. So this boy's father was a celebrity then.

"You'll learn all about Quidditch when we get to Hogwarts," The boy assured him, "They have games all the time apparently."

"Deryn by the way," he said, sticking his hand out, "Deryn Sharp."

Alek looked at the hand, then tentatively shook it. Deryn seemed an odd name for a boy.

"Alek," he responded.

"Alek what?" Deryn asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"What do you _mean _'Alek what?'" Alek asked confused, then remembered, "I don't have a last name if that us what you're asking about," he said.

Deryn's eyebrows shot up at this.

"No last name? Do people not have last names where you're from?" he asked.

Alek frowned. So the boy had noticed his accent.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course they do. I am a _noble, _my title defines me." He said haughtily.

At this the boy's stare changed from interest to shock. He slapped his forehead again.

"I'm such a ninny- you're _him, _aren't you?" The boy's back stiffened now, adding an inch to his height.

At Alek's confused expression the boy laughed in amazement.

"That muggle prince whose been all over the papers!" Deryn said excitedly, then blushed, "Sorry, muggle_born_ prince. You're as wizard as I am witch now I suppose."

Alek almost glossed over the little detail, then turned a bright shade of red. So this was a _girl _he was speaking to. He felt all manner of stupid. Deryn took his embarrassment at having guessed her sex wrong as modesty, and tried a weak smile.

"Course' there's nothing _wrong _with being muggleborn. There are plenty of 'em on this train just like you," The girl shrugged, "Well not _just _like you but muggleborn all the same."

"Yes," Alek said, recovering a bit, "I suppose so."

"I heard you were escorted around London by the best Aurors in the business," Deryn said in a low voice, "Was it…_weird _to be around all those powerful wizards?"

Alek cocked an eyebrow.

"If you mean Daniel Perkins and his men it was a bit strange yes," he said.

Deryn looked taken aback.

"No not the barking ministry official I meant the _Aurors,_" she said, "Tall men in dark robes, always shifting their eyes and stuff…" she looked as if she was going to slap herself again, "…Which you probably don't know about either. Aurors are dark wizard hunters. It said in the news the top seven in the industry were sent to bodyguard you, Evangeline's orders."

"Evangeline?" Alek asked, feeling as if he had heard the name before.

"She's the headmistress at Hogwarts," Deryn explained, "Tough as nails, everyone says, when she wants something, she gets it," the girl paused, then added, "Or some_one _in your case."

"Ah," Alek said simply, wondering how he felt about a female headmistress.

Deryn seemed to sense Alek's deteriorating mood, and tried to change the subject.

"So, what house do you think you'll be in?" She asked cheerily.

Alek felt she were doing it on purpose at this point. But he took the bait all the same.

"What do you mean what house?" and before Deryn could slap herself Alek added, "The boarding schools in Austria have _dormitories,_ are they similar?"

"Well, yes and no," Deryn said, "Yes, your house determines where you sleep at night, but it's more than that. It's like… a team you're put on at the start of the year. And throughout the year the whole team is trying to earn points by being good students and helping out teachers and winning Quidditch games, and at the end of the year Evangeline counts up all the points and the winning house has a banquet in their honor." Deryn shrugged, "At least that's how everyone puts it."

"How many houses are there?" Alek asked, suddenly nervous. So this was a competitive school.

"Four," Deryn answered, "Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. I _know _I'll be in Ravenclaw. Everyone in my family's been in Ravenclaw three generations back."

Alek looked at her with surprise.

"Your _entire _family is made up of wizards?" he asked, "And they all went to Hogwarts?"

Deryn nodded, a smug look evident on her face.

"But don't worry. That kind of thing doesn't matter unless you want to be in Slytherin. Jaspart says lots of muggleborns got into Ravenclaw last year." The girl reached over to box Alek's shoulder, "Maybe we'll be housemates."

"Yes maybe," Alek said, a bit taken aback. He never had been on a team before, in fact this was the first non-relative he had ever spoken to who was the same age as him. What if he wasn't _good _at being on a team? In all his excitement at becoming Alek the Wizard, he hadn't realized just how different things were going to be from now on. This was a school full of students his own age, all of them trying to be the same thing he was trying to be.

Deryn sat back, apparently tired of talking, and looked out the window at a dark night sky. Alek studied her. Were all girls- _witches _like this? So boisterous and confident? The only girl he had known was one of his cousins, three years his elder. Anais had always been prim and stuck up, trying her best to be like her mother. This girl didn't seem to care what people thought of her, what with her rough way of speaking and her short boyish haircut.

"Deryn?" Alek asked, feeling like an idiot.

"Yes?" she said, not looking at him.

"Why is your hair so short? In Austria-" he took a deep breath, "In the _muggle _word girl's always wear their hair long."

Deryn laughed out loud at this, making Alek feel more the fool.

"Yes girls like long hair on this end too," Deryn admitted, then cocked her head to either side, cracking her neck, "But Da says I'll get the best wind resistance this way. Well he told _Jaspart _that anyway. Ma never let me cut my hair, but she finally allowed it this Summer, even though I'm not even allowed to join my house Quidditch team until my second year."

Deryn leaned in closer.

"I think she's just sore because she doesn't want me taking Jaspart's place on the team at school."

The girl chuckled and resumed looking out the window.

"Us first years still get flying lessons though, and you'll learn all about wind resistance and balance from the instructor.

"What kind of sport is this anyway?" Alek asked an amazed chuckle escaping his nervous mood. Flying? _Wind resistance? _

Deryn beamed and was about to answer when a voice sounded overhead.

"Attention students we will be reaching our destination shortly. Please prepare to exit the train in an orderly fashion. Do not attempt to carry your luggage, as it will be brought up for you."

A loud whistle sounded, hailing their arrival to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	4. A Different Perspective

As the train came to a stop, the tiny hallways of the Hogwarts Express filled with students. The tight bodies packed together, making escape from the car unbearably slow. At one point someone shoved themselves between Deryn and Alek, and before she could whip her head around to make sure he was still behind her, Alek was lost in the crowd. Deryn sighed, and decided to blazes with it all. She pushed and shoved to get out, and was making good progress when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Deryn turned to find herself looking at her brother, Jaspart.

"Shoving is rude," he said simply, with a playful smile on his face, "And I thought I told you to stay in my cart."

Deryn shrugged.

"Yours looked full," she said simply, remembering the glares on the faces of Jaspart's Ravenclaw friends.

"It was only the three of us!" Jaspart said, then noticed his sister had disappeared into the mob once more.

After a few more minutes of pushing and shoving, Deryn finally got herself outside and onto the platform. Taking in a big gulp of the fresh night air, she looked around to see what to do next. There was supposed to be a teacher to guide the first years wasn't there?

"First years come with me!"

Deryn flinched at the shrill voice that rang over the platform. Looking up, Deryn saw an old woman standing on a pedestal. A small group of first years had already made their way over to her, and stood huddled together nervously. As Deryn made her way over the woman let her voice loose again, screeching like a cat. There were three boys and two girls assembled here already, none of them seemed to know each other. All had probably done as Deryn had done, abandoning their companions to weave their way out first. Deryn smiled at the nearest boy.

"Quite chaotic, isn't it?" she asked him.

The boy snapped his head up, looking at Deryn as if she had three heads.

"Y-yes I suppose so," he stammered.

Silence fell for a bit. None of the small crowd seemed in the mood for talking.

"My name's Deryn, Deryn Sharp." Deryn offered, sticking her hand out to another boy.

"Like Artemis Sharp?" The boy asked, making Deryn grimace. Why did she always have to throw her last name around?

"Yeah. What's your name?" she asked, feeling like a ninny.

"Fitzroy," the boy said with a smirk, "Robert Fitzroy."

Robert grinned and thumped a smaller boy on the back.

"Eugene Newkirk!" The boy squeaked.

Deryn smiled at the boy.

"Nice to meet you, I suppose."

Again and again the old woman shrieked at the crowd, until the little gathering of six grew into a small mob. Every now and then the woman stooped and counted heads with her wand, then began shrieking again. Slowly the platform cleared, and Deryn began to fidget. What was taking so long? Wasn't everyone here by now? Looking around, Deryn realized with a pang of guilt that the boy she had met on the train was nowhere to be found.

"Why are we waiting up?" Fitzroy said irritably, "Surely there aren't anymore first years around."

The woman looked down at the boy, her eyes narrowed.

"We're missing someone," she hissed, "We cannot proceed until _all _of the first years are present."

"Well who are we missing?" Fitzroy asked.

Again the woman counted off students with her wand, mouthing names silently. Her eyes narrowed again.

"His Highness seems to have gotten himself lost," She muttered, then stepped down from her pedestal, "You all stay put. No wandering off!"

With that she walked away, and the whispering started up.

"His highness? What does she mean 'His Highness'?"

"Surely she doesn't mean a _prince _or anything?"

"I think she _does. _I heard my dad talking about it last week."

"Well it seems a bit off, doesn't it?" Deryn turned to look at Fitzroy, who was propped casually against a brick wall, "All of us waiting here for some muggleborn to show. How does one get lost on a _train _anyway?"

"Maybe he's not used to being in public," Deryn said, "He is a _prince _after all."

"And I'd assume in all his princely ways, he'd know its impolite to keep a crowd waiting," Fitzroy shrugged, "That, or he's gawking at something. A mudblood prince is still a mudblood."

A hush fell over the assembled students. Deryn felt a twinge of annoyance on Alek's behalf.

"Maybe he's hurt or something. You'd be a right bumrag with all your talk if he's injured," Deryn said.

The boy shrugged again.

"I suppose." He said, "Why do you care anyway. You're a pureblood, Sharp."

"Aye but that doesn't mean I go around spitting filthy names," Deryn spat.

"What? You mean 'mudblood?' Far less naughty than 'bumrag' if you ask me." Fitzroy leaned forward, a smirk on his face, "And are you sure you're a Sharp? I didn't think Artemis had _two _sons."

Deryn inhaled sharply, a blush creeping across her face. _Ma did warn me, _she thought to herself.

"I'm a _girl _you...bumrag…" she said, an angry tremor in her voice.

The previously silent crowd gasped.

"Oh really?" Fitzroy's eyebrows rose, but his smirk remained, "Well I'm sorry I couldn't tell because you're so-"

At that moment the old woman appeared, dragging a red faced Alek behind her.

"Alright students follow me," she shrieked, marching away from the platform.

Slowly the crowd's attention shifted and followed the woman, last of which was Newkirk who blushed and disappeared into the masses.

Deryn slowed so she could walk beside Alek, who was quietly walking towards the back of the crowd.

"What happened?" she asked, to which the boy turned a deeper shade of red and looked away.

"I…I got my…robe caught in the door…" he said, "With so many people bumping and pushing I got stuck."

"Well its good to see that you aren't _injured_," Came Fitzroy's voice from ahead, "Miss Sharp here was ever so worried about you."

Deryn blushed again and strode away from Alek. Princes and their lame excuses be damned.

When Deryn saw the dock, her mood drooped lower. Bloody _perfect. _Students piled apprehensively into the boats, they didn't look too safe, and soon everyone was gliding away from the shore, across the black lake.

Still thoroughly put out, Deryn refused to look up as they neared their destination. She heard the other students with their 'ooh's and 'ah's, but remained sullen for the ride. It was only as she stepped out of the boat did she get a look at the castle. Barking spiders but it was _huge._ Even obscured by the nearby trees Hogwarts looked massive. Deryn had never seen a castle so big, or a castle at all for that matter. As she followed the crowd towards the entrance, a shiver of nerves went down her spine. She detested fancy places with their fussy design and cavernous ceilings, even the church near her house made her fidgety, but this place was a new kind of grand.

As everyone pooled around the great oak doors leading inside, Deryn saw a man in pale purple robes and what looked like a sleeping cap standing by the door.

"Thank you, Professor Blackwood," he said, then looked to the first years, "And welcome, all of you."

It was the most depressing welcome Deryn had ever heard. She couldn't tell if it was his strange attire or his gloomy voice, but this wizard seemed as dull as wizards could be.

"I'll leave them with you, then," Professor Blackwood said.

The wizard nodded to Blackwood, and his eyes flicked back to the crowd.

"I am Professor Dumbledore, I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year," he announces solemnly. "We are about to enter the great hall. There you will be assigned to your house. Your house will determine your sleeping arrangements, as well as your academic agenda. This way please."

Deryn blinked. She hadn't expected her arrival at Hogwarts to be a _show _or anything, but when she heard Da and everyone talk about houses, there had been a lot more in the description then _that._ Trying not to meet the eye of the dull professor, Deryn ambled through the doors into the warm light inside.

This time she gaped with everyone else. The great hall was huge and extravagantly decorated, with golden plates and silverware on each of the four tables, elaborate tapestries hung on the walls, and thousands of candles hovering in the air. The ceiling went on forever, mirroring the starry night sky outside. Every face turned to the group of first years, and more than just a few nervous quivers racked Deryn's frame. Of all the fancy fussy places this had to be the fanciest and the fussiest. Deryn had to fight the urge to grab the hand of the boy next to her.

Professor Dumbledore led them to the front of the hall, where older wizards and witches sat at the teacher's table. There sat a stool with a grubby old hat propped up on it. Deryn tried not to jump when it began to sing.

_A thousand years or more ago  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:_

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began.

Now each of these four founders  
Formed their own house, for each  
Did value different virtues  
In the ones they had to teach.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were  
Prized far beyond the rest;  
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  
Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  
Most worthy of admission;  
And power-hungry Slytherin  
Loved those of great ambition.

While still alive they did divide  
Their favourites from the throng,  
Yet how to pick the worthy ones  
When they were dead and gone?

Twas Gryffindor who found the way,  
He whipped me off his head  
The founders put some brains in me  
So I could choose instead!

Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have a look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!

The hall applauded as the hat finished its song, and Professor Dumbledore pulled out a list.

"When I call out your name, please step forward," he said dully, and began with, "Abel, Winston"

Winston trotted nervously up to the stool and sat down. Dumbledore put the hat on his head, and let it slip over the boy's eyes. The great hall remained silent, then finally the hat shrieked: "Slytherin!"

The table to the far left, underneath a silver and green banner, began to clap as the new Slytherin tried not to rush to his table.

Jennifer Addison was called up next, and made a Hufflepuff.

Deryn groaned when Fitzroy became a Ravenclaw, and clapped politely when Newkirk became a Gryffindor.

Midway through the list, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and with a bit more emphasis announced:

"His Serine Highness Prince Alecksander of Hohenberg" The cheering from the previous selection died down as Alek stepped up to the stool.

Everyone waited in silence as the hat was slid onto Alek's head. It seemed to take forever for the hat to yell:

"Gryffindor!"

At this the Gryffindor's went wild, standing up and howling as a bewildered looking Alek made his way to their table. For all her earlier embarrassment, Deryn was sad to see he wasn't in Ravenclaw. It would have been nice to know someone in her house who wasn't a bumrag like Fitzroy.

As more names were called the group of unnamed first years diminished in size, until finally "Sharp, Deryn" was called.

Another hush fell as she sat down on the stool and the hat was plopped onto her head. There was a brief silence, and Deryn nearly fell off the stool when the hat's voice sounded suddenly in her ear.

"You're a tricky one, aren't you?" the hat said, a tone of glee in its scratchy voice. Deryn didn't answer, just bit her lip and waited for the hat to get it over with.

"Yes it would make sense to put you in Ravenclaw wouldn't it, I'd know a mind like this anywhere. Your family is as sharp as thier name. But there's more than just brains here, isn't there?"

A flicker of excitement and dread bounced in Deryn's chest.

"Yes, you might well be the first Sharp who wasn't put in Ravenclaw, might you? Very intimidating to think about, but you don't seem to mind much from what I'm seeing. You like different, it seems."

Suddenly it felt like Deryn had been under this hat for ages. Did it take this long with everyone else?

"Clever enough to be a Ravenclaw, ambitious like a Slytherin, brave as a Gryffindor, with all the loyalty of a Hufflepuff. You're a tricky one you are."

The image of Alek and Newkirk sitting at Gryffindor table shot through Deryn's mind.

"And of course you want to be with your little friends, can't forget that. Always a factor, if not a large one."

Deryn opened her eyes and stared at the blackness of the hat. Was this really alright? Wouldn't her parents be angry? Jaspart wouldn't mind of course, his place on the team would be safe the greedy sod, but Da? And Ma? Wouldn't they be disappointed? What about Gran and all of Ma's sisters? Barking spiders they'd be scandalized!

"Changes have to start somewhere my dear," the hat said, then shrieked:

"Gryffindor!"


End file.
